De ’possum had as fine a tail as dis dat I’s a singin’; De ha’r’s so long, an’ thick, an’ strong--jes’ fit for banjo stringin’-- Dat niggar shaved ’em off as short as washday dinner graces; An’ sorted ob ’em by de size, from little E’s to basses. He strung her, tuned her, struck a jig--’twas Nebber Min’ de Wedder-- She soun’ like forty-lebben bands a-playin’ all togedder; Some went to pattin’, some to dancin’; Noah called de figgers-- An’ Ham he sot an’ knocked de tune, de happiest ob niggars! Now, sence dat time--it’s mighty strange--dere’s not de slightest showin’. Ob any ha’r upon de cunnin’ ’possum’s tail a-growin’; An’ curi’s too--dat nigger’s ways; his people nebber los’ ’em-- For, whar you finds de niggar, dar’s de banjo an’ de possum! JOHN H. WILLIAMS. Mr. J. H. Williams, better known as “the Norristown Herald man,” is one of the few successful latter-day humorists. He was born in Montgomery county, Pennsylvania, and after a few years of common school education, he located in Norristown, a lively town of the Keystone State, serving an apprenticeship as a printer’s devil. In 1860 he began writing for the New York Mercury over the signature of “B. Dadd.” About this time he also produced a series of letters signed “A. Ward, Jr.,” which, by the way, were excellent imitations, and were widely copied, some papers dropping the Jr. and crediting them to Artemus Ward himself. For several years Williams resided in Wilmington, Delaware, but in 1871 he returned to Norristown and became attached to the Herald. Williams is considered one of the most rollicking writers on the American press. He is still a young man and has been married for several years. He forbade my writing a biography for him and begged of me to allow him to compose his own “obituary,” as he is pleased to call it. Here is what he wrote: “MY DEAR MR. CLEMENS: “A man’s biography auto always be written by himself. A disinterested party is liable to omit some of the facts. A personal history should above all things be truthful--devoid of fulsomeness, and embrace all the important events of its subject’s life, good or bad. Too many biographers lie like a patent medicine advertisement. This is to be regretted. “My memory is too treacherous to write my own life anyhow. I have been informed that I was present on the occasion of my birth, but I haven’t the slightest recollection of it--as some one has previously remarked. “I am older--am uglier--than I was two score years ago. “_Then_, young ladies would chuck me under the chin and gushingly exclaim: “B’ess its purty ’ittle heart.” “_Now_--they don’t.